Regret
by ekat.ekat
Summary: Oscar Levant said, "It's not what your are, it's what you don't become that hurts." But in Edward's case, it wasn't what he did, it was what he didn't do, that caused him the regret of a lifetime. How can one possibly amend for that one moment's cowardice, that one second's indecision, that one regret, that left such consequences?
1. Chapter 1

_**Regrets**_

Edward hadn't even wanted to go to the high-school reunion party. If anyone had asked him a decade ago where he'd be ten years on, his only answer would be – not here. Not in Forks, and certainly, not in the garishly decorated gymnasium of Fork's High. But his mother had wheedled and his friends had needled, and one too many telephone calls from Principal Green – still the same Principal Green as all those times ten years ago – Edward found himself coerced into dropping the R.S.V.P. return slip in the letter box.

If he was being serious, it wasn't a 'sense of duty' to 'encourage and inspire the next generation of Fork's High students' that made him change his mind. It wasn't his parents' idea of a weekend getaway at the old town they'd spend four years at. It certainly wasn't any desire on his part to reminisce about his time as Fork's golden it-boy.

" _She'll be there," Emmett had texted him, out of the blue one evening._

" _Who?" Edward had texted back, in between pages of figures with more zeros than he'd know what to do with._

" _Isabella Swan."_

And Edward was booking the next available flight out to middle-of-nowhere, Pacific Northwest.

Isabella Swan – the girl that got away. His only high-school regret, if he was being honest with himself. Not that she'd ever got away, seeing as she'd never been his. But now, a polite smile plastered on his face as he shook hands with old teachers and classmates, Edward felt the tell-tale anticipation as he skimmed over the crowd as inconspicuously as possible.

One too many 'Edward! How nice! What is it like to be a successful CEO in New York? Living the life, eh?' later, Edward found a comfortable vantage point in a corner of the gymnasium, and a flute of suspicious liquid that didn't quite taste like the champagne the bottle boasted itself to contain. He surveys the crowd, and he spots her.

Familiar, and yet, so foreign. Taller now, slender legs he'd seen on billboards and magazine covers encased in heels he'd never dream of her wearing ten years ago. Eyes so large, framed by lashes longer than his thumbnail. She smiles, expensive jewelry decorating her décolletage, and stands almost half a foot taller than Lauren Mallory, who used to look at her like the scum at the bottom of the pond. She's made it, one of the few from this backwater town – and against the odds, at that. She's larger than life, larger than her images plastered over all the Ralph Lauren Billboards in Times Square. And yet, to Edward, she's still the small slip of a girl. The one that slipped through his fingers.

It's in her posture, the thin arm wrapped around her narrow midsection, even as she speaks quietly, almost seemingly confidently to ex-teachers. Edward's halfway across the gymnasium towards her, when James Hunter slips in front of him, and Edward watches with narrowed eyes as he makes a beeline for Isabella.

James Hunter is bad news, and has been since they were kids. Mean to animals, mean to classmates, fuck-and dump kind of man, and Edward would bet every last penny in his sizeable bank account that the past decade hadn't made him a better man. His eyes track back to Isabella, and his vision clouds with anger as he watches the familiar exchange. Too familiar for comfort – one he should have intervened in all those years ago – but didn't.

-.-.-.-.-

 _It's the end-of-the-year beach party, filled with booze and alcohol, cigarettes and a bonfire too hot, far too warm for comfort in the humid May evening. Edward hadn't wanted to come to the beach party, but Emmett had dragged his ass out of his far more comfortable house with excuses of it being the last time everyone saw each other._

" _Dude, it's the last time we get to hang out!" Emmett had whined._

 _Edward had rolled his eyes, and resisted the urge to alert his twin brother- older by mere minutes, that they would be sharing an apartment in Harvard – and ergo, hanging out together, everyday._

" _It's not the same," Emmett had said, reading his twin's mind. "And we won't be with the crowd there, in the middle of Fucking-Nowhere-New-Hampshire."_

 _Sometimes, it was easier to go with Emmett's strange ideas, instead of correcting his lack of geographical knowledge – which saw Edward nursing a bottle of beer in the crowd. The thin cotton of his t-shirt is already sticking to his back uncomfortably, and the dull roar of his classmate's voices makes him irritable. Edward surveys the crowd, and his eyes fall on the one face he doesn't recognize._

 _It's a small slip of a girl, eyes so dark the fire dances in them, skin barely a shade darker than the white tank top she's wearing. She's almost too slender to be considered healthy, but my god, she's beautiful, Edward thinks. She's smiling at Rosalie Hale, nodding at something the older girl is saying, until Rosalie suddenly sprints away, squealing and shrieking as his brother tries to catch the statuesque blonde – his sometimes off, sometimes on girlfriend._

 _Edward wonders who this girl is, and watches as Jacob Black slings a hand over her narrow shoulders. The girl looks uncomfortable at Black's proximity, even from this distance, and Edward wonders if he should do something. Black dips his head to whisper something in her ear, and Edward watches with a growing sense of unease as the girl tries to shrug away from the larger boy._

" _Whatcha staring at?" Emmett interrupts his staring, slugging him across the arm._

" _Nothing," Edward says. "Nothing."_

-.-.-.-.-

This time, Edward doesn't hesitate to spring into action. He doesn't pretend it's nothing. He crosses the space between him and Isabella in a few steps, in time to see James try to sling his arm around Isabella's waist.

"Pretty girl," James was saying. "What's your name?"

Edward tries not to snarl and smack James' arm away. Clearly, he hadn't been to Times Square, or anywhere out of this bum-fuck town in ages. Everyone in New York with an eye would recognize the girl. Edward can't figure out of James if acting dumb, or actually dumb.

"Isabella," Isabella says, trying to side-step James' arm. "Isabella Swan."

Her voice is quiet, so quiet Edward nearly misses it.

"What a pretty name," James coos, and Edward's fingers tighten into fists as he resists the urge to smack the man across the jaw. "Who are you with?"

"With me," Edward growls instead, watching with absurd satisfaction as James takes his larger form into consideration, and drops his outstretched arm from Isabella's waist quicker than one would from a fire.

"I-I see," James says, and making some lame excuse about saying hello to another friend, scampers away.

"Edward Cullen," Edward introduces himself, once James is out of earshot.

"Isabella Swan," Bella smiles, turning to face him.

She's even prettier up close, and Edward swallows the lump in his throat. Unlike most of the other girls here, her makeup is almost minimalistic. There's a natural innocence about her that makes her look young, an ethereal quality that all the Naked palates and Sephora wouldn't be able to recreate.

"Sorry," Edward says, finding his voice. "I know you're not with me, but…" he trails off awkwardly, before he tells her that he wishes she was.

"Thank you," Isabella smiles again, almost nervously. "Really."

"No need," Edward says, and in a wild bid to keep the girl talking, asks needlessly, "So what brought you back? High School memories?"

Isabella laughs humorlessly. "My best friend convinced me it was a good idea," she says, gesturing around. "Facing my demons, or whatever."

"Ah."

"But honestly – I don't think it's Forks High that holds the demons," Isabella muses quietly, so quietly that Edward would have missed it if he wasn't paying such attention. Edward's stomach curls into a ball at that. He knows what, he knows where – and he wants to tell Isabella Swan how sorry he is that he didn't do anything all those years ago. He should have. A better man than him would have.

Instead, Edward opts for brevity. "I'd say Mallory and Stanley look pretty demon-like to me," he jokes.

Isabella laughs lightly. "Their cleavages were a hot favorite back in those days, if I remember correctly."

"Not for me," Edward says, and the way he holds her gaze makes Isabella's heart double-tap, and she squirms internally, in a way she never thought she'd be able to feel. Not after that, all those years ago.

She's uncomfortable, and fascinated, all at once. Who was this man? And what was he doing to her?

"Where are you from?" Isabella blurts. "As in, where have you been?"

Edward laughs. "I was from Forks, then moved to Massachusetts, and then New York. You?"

"Harvard?" Isabella grins, avoiding the question. "No wonder they've called you back for this … reunion."

"You got it. I know where you're from," Edward reveals. "But before that?"

Isabella laughs, and she's surprised that she isn't embarrassed that this man has seen her on billboards and advertisements. Usually when people recognize her on the streets, all Isabella wants to do is to hide. But today, with this man, she's happy. Giddy, almost, to have caught his attention. "Forks, then Columbia, and well, you know the rest."

"New York's a long way from Forks," Edward comments.

"Yeah, well. I wanted as much distance between Forks and myself after…"

After that incident, which could have been avoided had Edward grown a pair of balls, he thinks. But he daren't say that out loud. He's still a coward, after all those years, and it is an awful niggling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

-.-.-.-.-

 _The landline rings at 7am the next morning, and the noise is shrill and high. An oddity, because who calls the landline in this day and age, when there are cellphones and Whatsapp and Telegram?_

 _Edward ignores it, turning back into his pillow. From the next bedroom, he hears Emmett's hungover curses at the shrill noise._

 _And then, there's silence, as someone – ostensibly his mother – picks up the phone._

 _Edward drifts back into sleep._

 _He's barely entered the REM phase again when there's a knock on his door. Not the polite put-on-your-underwear-it's-your-mother knock, but the rapid something's-up knock. It sounds urgent, and Edward swings out of bed._

" _What is it?" he asks, just as Esme pushes the door open, her brows creased._

" _Do you know this girl?" she asks, holding out a photo on her cellphone._

 _It's the girl from the beach. Too slender, too beautiful for this backward town. Too new, that Edward doesn't even know her name._

" _I saw her at the bon-fire yesterday," Edward says, even as a feeling of dread he can't shake off comes over him. "Why?"_

" _She's missing," Esme says, her voice quiet. "Charles Swan – that is – our Chief of Police – is looking for her. She's his daughter."_

" _Fuck," Edward swears, and for once, Esme doesn't chastise him. Images of the girl shrinking away from Jacob Black flashes through his mind, and Edward wants to punch that fucker._

" _Jacob Black was coming on to her yesterday," he says. "Not sure if she went with him."_

" _Black – from the reservation?" Esme asks, already typing furiously into her Whatsapp chat with Charles Swan._

" _Yeah. Big guy."_

" _I'll let Charles know. Thanks, son," Esme says, walking to the next bedroom to interrogate her elder son by all of seconds._

-.-.-.-.-.-.-

There's speeches, and awards, and after clinching Most Outstanding Alumni – Batch of 2007, Edward drifts back to Isabella, who's clinched Most Outstanding Alumni – Batch of 2008.

"I didn't know you were only a year younger than me," Edward says. "Congratulations, by the way."

"Thanks," Isabella grins, as they wander away from the crowd, their responsibility over. "Graduated early by two years."

"Ah. All the more impressive."

"Not that there was much competition," Isabella laughs self depreciatingly, and Edward is amazed at how much he likes to hear her laugh. He doesn't want this night to end. He doesn't want her to get away again. He doesn't want to be a coward any longer.

"Hungry?" he asks her, when they reach the exit of the gymnasium. "Up for pie?"

"Pie?"

"Forks' Diner," Edward clarifies. "Or coffee, or hot chocolate, or – "

"That sounds great," Isabella says.

His hand almost spans the entire width of the small of her back, and as he guides her out of the gymnasium and into his silver Volvo, he can't help the shiver that runs up his spine – and it has nothing to do with the cold Forks air.

-.-.-.-.-


	2. Chapter 2

**Regret: Chapter 2**

"Had fun?" Esme greets her younger son when he steps into the house, an uncharacteristic smile on his face.

"Met a pretty girl?" Carlisle guesses, a smirk on his face.

"Both," Edward says. He's almost giddy, so happy that he can't even find it in himself to be bothered that his parents are sticking their noses in his affairs – where they don't belong. His phone dings with a new incoming WhatsApp message as he ascends the stairs to his childhood bedroom, and he nearly trips over a step in his haste to read it.

' _Thanks for the ride home, Edward.'_

It's from Isabella, and Edward grins at his phone like the lovesick teenager he feels like inside. They'd exchanged numbers over pie and ice-cream, after discovering that they both lived in Manhattan, within a few miles of each other.

' _You're welcome, Isabella.' Edward types his reply immediately._

The next message pops up just as Edward was about to turn in. He'd been thinking of how to get Isabella to go on a second date with him – if you could even consider hanging out after a cheesy high-school reunion event a date.

' _It's Bella. Only my agent calls me Isabella when he's upset.'_

Bella. Beautiful.

' _Right. Bella. So I'm a closer friend than your agent;)'_

Edward wants to rescind his winky face, but it's too late.

He's about to apologize for his forwardness, when his phone dings again. A single smiley face lights up the screen when he opens the WhatsApp chat, and the smile on his face is bigger than the one on the yellow emoji.

-.-.-.-.-

 _Ten minutes later, all the Cullens have congregated in the kitchen._

" _It's too early to deal with this shit," Emmett grumbles._

" _What exactly happened?" Edward asks his mom, running a hand through his hair anxiously. He hopes it isn't what he imagines, he hopes it's something simpler than that. Something more benign, in his surgeon father's words. A benign lump. Unlikely malignant in nature._

 _Esme's on the phone with someone, and the boys catch snippets of conversation._

"… _didn't come home last night. I didn't know – was on night duty. This morning when I went home – she wasn't home. Bells just isn't the type to stay out late."_

" _It's not your fault," Esme says, a crease forming between her brows._

" _Oh, god."_

" _Charles, calm down. It isn't your fault."_

" _I should never have pressured her into going to that stupid bonfire. She didn't want to go. Bells wanted to stay home and read, but I thought she should meet some new kids in town. Oh my god."_

" _Charles."_

" _And now she's missing, Esme. What if –_

" _It's no use thinking about the what ifs. Carlisle will ring the minute any news comes in from the hospital. Have you searched the reservation?"_

" _My guys are there now. I'm heading to the Black's house."_

" _Okay. Keep us updated. We'll keep a lookout for her, too."_

" _Thanks, Esme."_

 _Esme puts down the phone. Nothing like this has ever happened in Forks, population of less than 4,000 before. It's a sleepy, backward town, where the Chief of Police's biggest worry is the snow causing traffic in winter. Not his missing daughter._

" _Maybe she's stayed over at some guy's place," Emmett offers. "I'll ring them up."_

" _That would be helpful," Esme agrees._

" _I need some fresh air," Edward mumbles. He grabs his car keys, and Esme frowns after him. "Don't go too far. And keep your cell phone on. I don't like what's happening." Maybe there's a serial killer on the loose, or a mass murderer, are her unspoken thoughts._

-.-.-.-.-

He's standing in front of the Chief of Police's front door again, now. It's been ten years since he's last stood on these front steps leading up to the ugly blue door the Chief Swan has never bothered to repaint, and unwanted memories flood his mind.

The hysteria he felt, the panic on chief Swan's face, the utter chaos. Edward thinks he's going to be sick, but the front door swings open, and the girl before him makes every other feeling but joy fade away.

She's shy and blushing as she invites him in, and Edward's almost embarrassed about how happy he is.

"I brought you breakfast," he offers, holding up coffee and cinnamon buns. "And an extra cup for your dad too."

"Oh, you didn't have to -"

"Thanks," Chief Swan pops his head into the kitchen, and grab the coffee, inhaling it before grinning at Edward. "Edward, right?"

"Yes sir," Edward says. It's not the first time he's met the Chief of Police, albeit this time, it's a happier occasion. Not that there's too much to grin about, since he's here to pick his daughter up for a date.

"Right. Have fun, kiddos. I'm off to the station. Text me when you reach home later," the Chief leaves, leaving Edward and Bella in the kitchen.

"That was … unexpected," Bella says.

"Unexpected? In a good way, or bad way?"

"I thought you might get interrogated," Bella laughs, taking a sip of coffee, and watching her, Edward is discomfited at how sexy he finds her lips. "But then again, your information's pretty public."

"You googled me?" Edward's shocked, and pleased, and flattered all at once.

Bella blushes, biting her lips as she looks away.

"Hey," Edward reaches out, and tugs bottom lip free of her teeth. "I'd want to know who I'd spent an evening with, too. And who I was going to spend a day at Port Angeles with. I'm actually flattered, Bella."

"Forbes 50 under 50?"

Edward grins. Normally, he's keen to hide his wealth from the girls he goes on dates with. Most of them are only interested in his pockets, not his plackets, and that's kind of sad. But with Bella, Edward doesn't mind.

"You're no pauper either, Miss Ralph Lauren Billboard."

Bella's answering blush is so adorable that Edward has to literally sit on his hands to stop himself from reaching out and hugging her. He wants to wrap her in silk and cotton and never let her go, but it's too early to tell her that.

"Shall we?" he asks instead, angling his head out the window, towards his silver Volvo. The same Volvo from all those years ago. He wonders if Bella remembers it.

They have a grand time at Port Angeles, shopping and chatting, and giggling like giddy teenagers. Innocent brushes of skin and hands, and Edward finds himself more on edge than any other girl has managed. They stop for lunch at an Italian bistro, and Edward finds himself falling even more for this girl he's wanted for so long.

"Don't judge," Bella laughs, after she placed her order of spaghetti aglio with a side of garlic bread. "I love my carbs."

Edward chuckles, and bites his tongue before the truth slips out. I love you, he wants to say. "I love that in a girl," he says instead. "I cook mean carbs."

"You can cook?" Bella's surprised, and Edward feigns offence at her astonishment.

"There's only that much take-outs and Chinese I can stand," he says. "Come over to my apartment one day; I'll show you my skills." The words are out of his mouth before he realizes how suggestive they are, and Edward's about to backpedal, but Bella grins.

"You're on," she says. "I've got some skills too. In the kitchen, that is."

"Of course. In the kitchen," Edward bites back a smirk, and Bella catches the mischievous look on his face, bursting into giggles. Her laughter is contagious, and before he knows is, Edward's full out belly-laughing. Other patrons shoot him a dirty look, and he tries to smother his laughter in his napkin. He's never laughed this much. Ever.


End file.
